


Not fragile like a flower (fragile like a bomb)

by Puppetqueen



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Baekhyun/X-Baekhyun, Byun Baekhyun Being a Little Shit, End game Sehun/Baekhyun/X-Baekhyun, M/M, Mentions of multiple other pairings, Multi, Music Video: Obsession (EXO), Obsession AU, Pre-Relationship, X-Bäekhyun being a little shit, X-EXO Clones (EXO), mild descriptions of pain and injuries, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24069739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puppetqueen/pseuds/Puppetqueen
Summary: What people don’t understand about light, is that it doesn’t mean the absence of darkness - it only means that darkness closely follows. Sehun himself doesn’t realize it until he’s bleeding out with an arrow in his chest
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Byun Baekhyun, Byun Baekhyun/Oh Sehun
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58
Collections: CASE–94: Round One





	1. Part 1: Sehun

**Author's Note:**

> **This piece was written for the first round of CASE–94 a Fest for Oh Sehun.**
> 
> First and foremost, I'd like to thank the mod(s) for putting up with my constant extension requests. I'd also really like to apologize to the prompter. When I first claimed this prompt, I had such high hopes for it, I was really excited to delve into writing in the OBSESSION!AU. But then the pandemic happened and effectively wiped out any motivation I had. It was a struggle to get even half way through writing this fic, but I didn't want to drop out of the fest, even if I knew I wouldn't be submitting my best work. Still, I was adamant that I'd submit /something/ because it'd give me a sense of normalcy in these difficult times. I'm proud of what it took to finish this fic where I did, even if I'm not proud of its entirety. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads/comments/leaves a kudos!  
> Stay safe everyone, stay inside, and WASH YO DAMN HANDS!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the names in the chapter titles!

What people don’t understand about light, is that it doesn’t mean the absence of darkness - it only means that darkness closely follows.

Sehun knows this viscerally, has seen Baekhyun light up a room just by walking into it, has felt his warmth, reveled in his infectious delight, has experienced first hand the blessing it feels like to be in his presence. 

Sehun has seen, also, the darkness that follows him. It used to surprise Sehun, the level of ruthlessness Baekhyun could execute when needed, how heavy handed he could be against those that posed a threat to them and what they stood for. It’s why he’d been chosen for the mission, to go undercover and infiltrate the ranks of the Red Force. Light could be manipulated in any which way and Baekhyun held its power in the palm of his hands. He’d do what needed to be done. He’d be their inside man, their undercover guy, going in deep to suss out the enemy’s plans and strike when they were the most vulnerable. 

And everything had worked out, gone so well that no one realized the light had succumbed to the darkness until it was too late. 

Sehun himself doesn’t realize it until he’s bleeding out with an arrow in his chest, an arrow he himself had shot, his target an abomination with his face, his body, his abilities. He’d shot arrow after arrow until his quiver was empty, the floor littered with his attempts and still, the other him had only sat, unblinking as every arrow was deflected, pushed back and directed with power that should have been his- that was his, but refused to listen. 

And when at last he’d landed a shot, it was to the horrible realization that the sudden, sharp pain he saw on his doppelgängers face was the same one he was feeling in his own chest. He’d staggered back, dumbfounded, mind reeling. Things weren’t adding up. 

This felt too much like an ambush, not a rescue mission. 

Around him, the others are scattered, locked in their own battles. Chanyeol’s fire is searing hot to his left, embers flying and sparks exploding as Chanyeol battles with another abomination with his same face, wielding flames as easily as Chanyeol ever has. Beneath him is soaked with Junmyeon’s water, a flood that mixes with his blood, and if he turns his head he can see his leader struggling with a devil in red, Junmyeon’s handsome features twisted into something furious, deranged. 

Sehun doesn’t understand how they ended up this way, how all their carefully laid plans had become nothing but a convoluted mess, doomed to fail right from the beginning. He staggers through the wreckage and the rubble, trying to put as much distance between him and the whistle of a building tempest battering at his back. Sehun knows they’re losing. They are too misinformed - whether by accident or deliberately - they have to leave. They have to get out of here. They have to - 

_“Where are you going, Hunnie?”_ The tempest whistles into his ear before slamming into his back and shoving him face first into a wall. _“We aren’t done here yet.”_

The first time Sehun wakes up, it’s to a sharp pain in his chest and a warm body glued to his side. He moves to get up but the arm slung across his torso tightens around him, followed by a surge of heat and the slight ebbing of the pain. He gasps in relief, laying back against the warmth at his side like a puppet with its strings cut. 

Gentle hands stroke at his waist, coming up slowly to lay a palm over the muted throbbing just below his clavicle.

“Take it easy, Sehun-ah,” Yixing’s familiar dulcet tenor whispers from where it's pressed into his shoulder. He shifts, slips an arm under Sehun’s neck to wrap Sehun more firmly in his embrace. Soft lips and butterfly kisses along his temple and in his hair radiate tendrils of warmth until Sehun feels both light and heavy, body weighed down but mind filled with cotton. 

“Hyung,” he whines groggily, attempting to bat Yixing’s soothing hands away but ending up with their fingers laced together instead. There are questions he wants to ask, _why are you here? What happened? What’s going on? Why does it-_

“You need to rest,” Yixing murmurs, bringing their intertwined fingers up to his face and leaving another kiss to Sehun’s knuckles. Another wave of warmth at the press of his lips has Sehun biting back a whimper, pain relief and the shadow of pleasure threatening to pull him under. 

“But- hyung,” Sehun tries to argue, eyelids fluttering uselessly even as Yixing twines their legs together and presses Sehun’s face into his neck. 

“Rest,” Yixing commands softly, and Sehun has no choice but to follow. 

The second time he wakes up, Sehun is simultaneously burning up and racked with cold. 

He’s shaking from the inside, bones clattering, freezing, even as sweat beads along his brow, eyelids feeling hot. He feels weak, his mouth dry, that sharp, excruciating pain in his chest making it so hard to _breathe._ He tries to move but finds that he can’t, too weak to do more than lift his head up; even that small movement is enough to have him biting back a cry of pain. 

At the sound, someone is at his bedside immediately, Jongin appearing silently, with only the subtle displacement of air to herald his arrival. _He’s awake,_ he hears Jongin call out, the words sounding far away before Jongin lays hands on him.

“Don’t try to move,” Jongin murmurs, carding fingers through Sehun’s damp hair. Sehun groans at the coolness of his hand. “You’re hurt.”

“What-“ Sehun tries to speak but his mouth is too dry to form the words, throat clicking, parched. Jongin has to wet his lips with a sponge prepared on a bedside table before he can continue. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Jongin doesn’t answer right away, and Sehun doesn’t have it in him to analyze his silence. 

“There was a mission,” Jongin starts, cupping Sehun’s face with his blessedly cool hands. “Do you remember any of it, Sehun-ah?” 

_A mission?_ Sehun can’t think, can barely form a coherent thought with the way the heat feels like its trying to melt his brain. Only Jongin’s gentle thumbs smoothing across his cheeks keeps him focused. “Hurts, Nini,” Sehun whimpers, words slurring over the pet name Jongin hates anywhere else outside the confines of a closed bedroom door. 

It’s more telling - the way Jongin doesn’t bother to tell him off - exactly how serious things are even if Sehun knows he’s probably too delirious to fully understand. 

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay,” Jongin says, leaning over to press his lips against Sehun’s eyelids, first the right, and then the left. It’s a measure of comfort, the last thing Sehun remembers before the fever claims him again and the world goes dark. 

The next time Sehun wakes, it’s to a needle in his arm and a vigil at his bedside. 

He still feels hot, like there’s a heat just waiting to bubble over right under the surface of his skin but at least it’s no longer unbearable, tempered now by the cool fluid he feels seeping slowly through the needle and into his veins. It’s still hot though, and the heat feels like it’s concentrated in his chest and in one hand. 

“Hyung,” Sehun croaks, not even needing to open his eyes to know who is holding one of his hands like it’s a life line. He tries to pull away from the sweaty grip, but the heat radiating like waves off the other man almost doubles, his touch becoming scorching instead of just uncomfortable. _“Ah-”_

“Fuck- I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Abruptly his hand is dropped and the sound of a chair scraping over tiles is loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

Other voices, _it’s okay, it’s okay, you didn’t mean to._

_I- I can’t control it, fuck- Kyungsoo, why can’t I-_

“Hey,” familiar hands smooth along the side of his face, claiming his attention. “How do you feel, Sehun-ah?”

Sehun grunts in reply, willing his eyes to open just a little farther than slits, for his mouth to form more than one word replies. It’s difficult though, and his struggle is apparent, pain lancing through him at the slightest movement. 

A palm over the terrible ache at his chest soothes him instantly, enough to muster enough strength to turn and attempt to focus hazy eyes in the direction of the voices. 

There are others behind him, but Yixing takes up most of his view, leaning in close to lay hands on him, his touch keeping the pain at bay. His gaze is soft when their eyes meet, though this close Sehun can tell he looks almost as bad as Sehun feels, smudges of purple underneath his eyes, exhaustion so apparent he looks gaunt with it. 

“You’re back,” Sehun manages a whisper, the words rough, his mouth and throat not quite ready to work together. 

“Yeah, long time no see,” Yixing says just as softly, pressing the words onto the back of Sehun’s hand, the stinging burn that had been there melting away with the touch of his lips. “You’ve been causing trouble while I’ve been away.”

“Didn’t mean to,” Sehun sighs, tired all of a sudden. It’s frustrating, the way his body won’t listen to him, won’t stay awake just a little longer to ask the questions that have been nagging at him in his barely lucid moments. “What’s- going on? Why does-“ he has to stop to catch his breath, “-everything hurt?”

He’s not asking about the pain, it’s _painfully_ obvious he’s been injured, but he doesn’t understand how it still hurts; it shouldn’t, not if he’s been under Yixing’s care, which is clear he’s been for days now if Yixing looks like death warmed over. 

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” he says. “You really did a number on yourself this time around.”

“Wasn’t me,” Sehun says, eyes fluttering as his brows furrowed with an echo of a memory, a face- his face? A face like his? Someone who looked like him? The high pitched whistling of the wind but not his- not him- not his arrow- not-

“Hey, calm down,” Yixing leans over so their foreheads touch, petting his hair and stroking his face until Sehun’s head feels like it’s filled with cotton once again, everything hazy, all concrete thought going liquid at the touch of Yixing’s lips against his. 

Sehun sighs into the kiss, pain becoming a distant memory when his chin is tilted for a better angle and he can’t help but gasp as the heavy pressure in his chest that had been stealing his breath just _disappears,_ making his next inhale easy. It’s the last thing he remembers before succumbing to sweet oblivion.

Days go by and Sehun is only vaguely aware of them passing; his moments of consciousness are littered with pain, a never-ending intensity, hot and sharp in his chest. He’s awake in these moments long enough to be told he’s been hurt, that took an arrow to the chest in their last mission and the injury is infected. When standard medicine hadn’t seemed to be working, Yixing had come home, called away from his own commitments and long-standing responsibilities in the foreign branch of their organization to lend a helping hand. 

As glad as he is for the reunion, there’s something else they aren’t telling him and he’d be a fool not to notice that - even despite Yixing’s efforts - he isn’t getting better. 

“No,” He grits his teeth against the pain when he struggles to sit up. “Don’t touch me.”

“Sehun-ah,” Yixing pleads softly. “Let me help you.”

“No,” he says through heaving, ragged breaths, waving the older man away when he attempts to reach for him again. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. Why am I-“ he has to pause several seconds for a wave of nausea accompanying the pain to pass before he can go on. “Why am I not healing?”

Sehun almost regrets the question when Yixing simply looks torn in the silence that follows, an anguished expression before he can school his face into something less troubled a moment later. Sehun catches it only because he needs a distraction from the fire ignited in his chest, choosing to hyper focus on his hyung instead. 

“Let me get the others,” Yixing says softly. “They’ll explain to you what’s happening, but- at least let me make you comfortable, okay?”

Sehun is in no position to decline, not when just the act of sitting up has literally robbed him of his breath and darkness dots his vision.

“Not too much,” he protests weakly - stubbornly. 

Yixing sighs but does as he asks, placing a gentle hand over the wound on his chest, the blessed warmth of his touch just enough to take the edge off the pain so Sehun can breathe, so he can think without worrying about passing out.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, after making sure Sehun is comfortable. 

Sehun nods tersely, fighting off the wave of exhaustion that threatens to overcome him with all the exertion. He has a few minutes to take stock of his body and his surroundings for the first time since he’d been awake on and off. He finds it strange that he’s in a make-shift infirmary and not in the hospital wing of the main headquarters, even though he could have sworn he’d been there at one point. He has flashes of a memory, the sound of beeping, the prick of needles, and the smell of antiseptic unmistakable, so it can’t have been just a fever dream. 

Before he can follow that train of thought though, Yixing comes back, Junmyeon and Minseok at his heels. 

“Where’s everyone else?” He asks when they get close enough. 

Yixing pointedly sits at the end of the bed, not touching, but near enough to wrap fingers around Sehun’s ankle, just in case. Junmyeon and Minseok flank Sehun on either side; Junmyeon takes the seat next to the bed, reaching for Sehun’s pale hand automatically. Minseok settles next to him, slipping an arm behind him and over his shoulders so that Sehun half leans against his chest. Yixing’s fleeting touch on his ankle makes the repositioning bearable, as is the coolness of his hyungs’ hands. Water and ice personified, their hands are soothing on his fever-addled body, a balm to the simmering heat threatening to boil over just underneath his skin. 

“What do you remember?” Junmyeon probes him gently about their last mission. 

“It was supposed to be a simple raid. Chanyeol hyung and I-,” Sehun starts, brows deepening into a furrow as he tries to gather his thoughts. “There was some intel about Red Force fugitives holed up with a local gang. Then we got a message over the comms. An SOS. Baekhyun hyung, he- he had his cover blown or something. So we all went instead.”

Sehun shifts in Minseok’s embrace, chest aching something fierce. “When we got there it was-” _easy._ Way too easy. 

Dispersing the local gang members had been child’s play, most of them green, too young and nothing like the experienced, hardened criminals they’d been expecting. Deeper and deeper into the building they’d gone, encountering less and less people. Then, the lights had cut out suddenly and the prickling sense of foreboding Sehun had felt all throughout the operation sky-rocketed. They were enveloped in total darkness, the kind that ate up all the light, not even the night vision of their weapons could penetrate it. And Baekhyun, he’d been there all right.

Baekhyun had been there, along with _someone who looked just like him._

Then, out of the darkness had come the others. Then, it was chaos.

_Around him, the others are scattered, locked in their own battles. Chanyeol’s fire is searing hot to his left, embers flying and sparks exploding as Chanyeol battles with another abomination with his same face, wielding flames as easily as Chanyeol ever has. Beneath him is soaked with Junmyeon’s water, a flood that mixes with his blood, and if he turns his head he can see his leader struggling with a devil in red, Junmyeon’s handsome features twisted into something furious, deranged._

The crackle of electricity that burned, the bite of frost that stung, the quaking of the earth beneath his feet had felt threatening. The energy his hyungs had wielded felt foreign, corrupted. Aimed to cause more than just pain, but to inflict maximum damage. 

Then of course, there was the wind. 

_“Where are you going, Hunnie? We aren’t done here yet.”_

He flinches at the memory, at the sound of the whistling tempest that refused to be commanded, that bent to the will of another. 

Minseok’s arms tighten around his shoulders, and he presses Sehun’s face into his neck until Sehun feels grounded again, back in the present and no longer gripped by the memories seared into the back of his eyelids, overwhelming and too real now that he’s conscious long enough to face them. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” his eldest hyung whispers against the top of his head. “You’re here. You’re safe now.”

“Everyone else is okay,” Junmyeon reassures him with a squeeze of his hand. “You got the worst of it.”

Sehun squeezes back in return. “What’s wrong with me? Yixing hyung is here, but I’m not healing at all, am I? This - ” he gestures at the wound in his chest. “ - it's getting worse, isn’t it?”

Yixing curls fingers around his ankle without any power, just the heat of his palm. Gravely, he says, “It’s under control. But yes, it could be much, much worse.”

“But, why?” Sehun asks, wiggling his toes under Yixing’s forearm. “Is it poison?”

Yixing shakes his head and nods at Junmyeon. “We have a theory.”

Junmyeon sighs, deep and burdened. He avoids Sehun’s gaze. Only after an extended moment of silence does he answer. “We think…that there might be connection. Between us and. _Them._ ”

 _Them._ Junmyeon fills the word with such intense emotion Sehun can feel him vibrate with it, barely contained power and energy held back only by the hold he has on Sehun’s hand. 

“What does that mean?”

“It means, Sehun-ah, that you aren’t healing because the other you is hurt too,” Minseok answers. “He’s hurt and it's possible they don’t have a Yixing to fix the damage.” 

“How?” He asks, “Why? What are they? Aliens? Clones?”

“We don’t know yet,” Junmyeon says, and it's obvious it pains him to answer with such uncertainty. “But there’s only one way to find out, and the others are already working on it.”

“You’re going to try catching them, aren’t you?” Sehun gasps when it dawns on him. “And bringing them here? That’s why we aren’t at the main base. Because they gave a kill order but we- can’t. _Won’t-_ kill them.” He twists his fingers in Junmyeon’s hand in agitation and Minseok rubs soothingly at his shoulder. “Are we fugitives? Deserters? Have we gone rogue?”

“Not quite,” Junmyeon says, “But we have to be careful. The director wouldn’t answer any of my questions during the debrief, as if others walking around with our faces and our powers was more a nuisance than an actual problem.”

“Fishy,” Sehun agrees, tired again. He feels a headache coming on. “What’s the plan, then?”

Junmyeon sighs again, this time a little more fondly, pressing his lips against Sehun’s knuckles and reaching out to run fingers through his hair. “You let us worry about that. For now, don’t be stubborn and let Yixing help you feel better.”

Sehun wrinkles his nose, eyes drooping. “He looks awful.”

“Brat,” Yixing pinches the back of his knee, just enough to sting. Sehun nudges him in the stomach with his toes. 

“He’s not the one with a hole in his chest,” Minseok says, tweaking Sehun’s nose. “Be a good boy and listen to your hyung.”

Sehun hums noncommittally. “Stay with me until I fall asleep,” he demands, already halfway there.

A chorus of _yeses_ helps him the rest of the way. 

The following days are a cycle of fever dreams and more pain, almost as if awareness of a possible connection between his body and the other him has made everything worse. There’s a needle in his arm again, pumping him full of fluid, and through it all Yixing becomes a constant presence. His hyung gets a needle in his arm too because it's obvious, even in Sehun’s delirium, that the constant healing energy he’s using is taking its toll. 

Guilt starts to plague his waking hours just as much as the pain does. The worst part of it is the relief from agony isn’t something he can bring himself to turn down. He hurts too much, ripped out of unconsciousness too often, his body seized, gripped, and tormented by unseen forces out of his control. He doesn’t fight it when Yixing sidles up to him, wrapping him up in an embrace he’s too weak to turn away. He clings greedily, anything to soothe the flames that lick at his insides and burn away his rational thought. He sobs at every cool touch, whimpering into it, seeking it out. More often than not he’s answered with whispered promises, hushed reassurances pressed against his forehead, his cheeks, the stretch of skin behind his ear. He can’t always comprehend the words, but the tone is enough to provide him a comfort physical touch cannot. 

He’s not alone. His hyungs are still there. They’ll take care of him. 

_Darkness._

A black so deep it can’t be natural. 

_Breath._

Light and easy, unhindered.

_Empty._

No bones, no blood, just _space._

These are the first things he registers, tendrils of conscious thought not quite concrete, more like an intangible awareness of _where _and _what._ He’s not quite _there_ either, wherever _here_ is. But slowly, slowly, he’s aware of a _who._ Him. He’s a _who_ and there- there! Another who. Another _him._ __

__A frisson of alarm ripples through the impenetrable darkness, an echo of warning, but he can’t hold onto it so it slips away just as quickly as it had appeared. Nothing happens. He and _him,_ they float there in the darkness and not quite empty space, unaware of time or its passing. No pain. No heat. _ _

__The thought causes another ripple to disturb the darkness, this time radiating curiosity._ _

__They are both _here_ and _nothing happens.__ _

__Hm._ _

__The thought slips away again and just like before he doesn’t go chasing after it. Neither does the other him. They float there, barely whispers of smoke, together in the vast nothingness, enveloped in the absence of light and it feels right somehow, to occupy the same space. Here, in the darkness, they are made up of twin atoms - he and _him,_ they are one and the same. _ _

__That thought stays._ _

__That thought stays and takes root, forms other thoughts, concrete thoughts, thoughts that grow until he is more than a _who,_ he’s Sehun. He’s Sehun and for the first time in a long time it doesn’t hurt to breathe. With the awareness, the darkness recedes and he’s able to appreciate the softness of a bed under him, being wrapped in cool sheets, his face tucked into a firm chest, pressed against a warm body not his own. _ _

__He revels in that, in the ability to feel more than just pain. He wiggles his fingers and points his toes, shifting around, smoothing his hands up and down a muscled flank, his palms tingling._ _

__“Hey,” a deep voice rumbles in the chest, his ear is pressed against. “Where do you think you’re touching, Oh Sehun?”_ _

__The words are accompanied by calloused fingers tugging at his hair and then smoothing over his forehead again and again until Sehun hums in contentment. He sighs, hugging the compact body tighter against his._ _

__“Feeling better?” Kyungsoo asks, the words barely above a whisper. He presses his palm against Sehun’s forehead for a second before continuing to stroke his hair. “Your fever broke last night and hasn’t come back. It's the longest you’ve slept without waking up out of your mind with pain.”_ _

__Sehun nods. “Sore,” he says, shrugging a stiff shoulder and wincing at the slight ache in his chest. “Better.”_ _

__“Good.”_ _

__They cuddle a little longer before Kyungsoo sits him up to drink and then helps him into the adjacent bathroom. He’s still weak but he draws the line at letting Kyungsoo past the bathroom door, determined to take a shower and brush his teeth on his own. He catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror and grimaces at his reflection._ _

__Predictably, he looks like shit. He looks just as weak as he feels, his skin pale and almost sallow looking. There are bruises under his eyes, and patchy stubble along his jawline. His collarbones stick out more prominently under the unforgiving, harsh light of the bathroom and it's obvious he’s lost weight, even without the loose shirt and sweatpants hanging off him. Then, Sehun has to force himself to look at the wound in his chest._ _

__There’s a clean bandage over it and he gingerly peels off one corner to take a look. It's not a huge gaping hole like it had felt it was, still a little inflamed around the edges but there’s nothing oozing and it doesn’t look raw. Looking at it right now, he’s had worse wounds on the job, but it throbs a little the more he stares at it, so he quickly covers up again before getting to work on cleaning up. He uses the toilet and brushes his teeth quickly, not wanting to lose steam before he can get in the shower. The shower itself is refreshing even if he has to call Kyungsoo in half way through to help him scrub his back._ _

__Back in the bedroom, Kyungsoo’s changed the sheets on the bed and laid out a light meal of broth and a few side dishes, accompanied by various pills on a tray on the side table. “Be a good boy and drink your medicine,” Kyungsoo says sternly when Sehun makes a face. Sehun makes another face and rolls his eyes at the teasing, but eats and drinks dutifully._ _

__“Where is he?” he asks when he’s swallowed a few spoonfuls of broth. He’s really not that hungry, even if his stomach feels hollow and empty._ _

__The way Kyungsoo goes abruptly still is strange, the movement of the spoon in his bowl pauses before stirring again in slow, very deliberate circles. There’s a hard look on his face when he asks, “Who?”_ _

__“He’s here, isn’t he? The other me? That’s why I’m suddenly feeling better?” He says, not sure what to make of Kyungsoo’s expression. His brow smooths out a little at the mention of Sehun’s other self._ _

__Kyungsoo nods. “He’s with Yixing, on the opposite side of the compound. There were some...security issues so we thought it best to keep you both separate.”_ _

__“What do you mean?” Sehun asks, and they’ve both basically abandoned their food altogether._ _

__Kyungsoo shrugs, setting his bowl aside to cross his arms across his chest, muscles straining fabric in a pose that’s decidedly closed off. He avoids Sehun’s gaze when he answers. “It was a challenge to get him here. There was a fight and it wasn’t pretty. He’s not here alone.”_ _

__“Who else is with him?”_ _

__“Two of them. The one who looks like Jongin is named Kai, and Jongdae’s look alike said to call him Chen. They have the same abilities.”_ _

__“What are they like?” Sehun asks, curious, stirring the liquid in his bowl idly._ _

__Kyungsoo takes his time before answering. “Dangerous,” he finally decides. “Powerful,” he adds._ _

__“But…” He trails off with a small sigh, eyes intense and burning with an unreadable expression when he reaches for Sehun, runs a calloused hand through his shower damp hair. “When they fought, it was a fight to get their Sehun here, so I guess that counts for something.”_ _

__Sehun wants to ask how that went, wants details about the days he’s missed, wants to know everything that’s happened since he’s been out of commission but there’s something in Kyungsoo’s expression. Something else, something more pressing that he doesn’t know, that Kyungsoo isn’t saying._ _

__“What is it?” Sehun asks, “What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”_ _

__The silence that follows is both deafening and unmistakable. A stone sinks in Sehun’s hollow stomach, a heavy, uncomfortable feeling that makes him tired all of a sudden, an exhaustion of the mind more than the body._ _

__“Finish your food and drink the rest of your medicine and then we’ll talk about it,” Kyungsoo says after a while, sliding over the last medicine cup filled with a thick green liquid._ _

__Sehun doesn’t have it in him to argue, lifting the spoon to his mouth mechanically until his bowl and all the medicine cups are empty. He feels nauseous, the small, simple meal churning in his stomach. The wound in his chest aches. He looks at Kyungsoo expectantly._ _

__“You said there was a fight. Is everyone okay?”_ _

__“Everyone is fine,” Kyungsoo answers, but the way he hesitates on the last word fills Sehun with a sense of foreboding, makes him glad he’s already sitting in bed, what with the way his chest throbs suddenly. Kyungsoo misses his wince, still not quite looking him in the eye. “It was a mess after the last mission, especially when you got hurt and we realized you weren’t healing. We had to call Yixing but he couldn’t get here fast enough and for a second we thought—” Kyungsoo has to pause to clear his throat, words catching. Sehun reaches for his hand, squeezes it. “It was bad, Sehun-ah,” he continues quietly, eyes downcast. “You were losing a lot of blood and even when Junmyeon was able to stop it,” Kyungsoo shakes his head almost as if to clear the memory. “There was so much fighting going on we didn’t realize you’d gone down and hadn’t gotten back up until it was almost too late. We tried to retreat but they, the - _clones?_ We don’t know what they are exactly, yet - they kept on attacking. Junmyeon got you out while the rest of us stayed behind to cover, but - ”_ _

__Kyungsoo exhales sharply through his nose, expression morphing into one of anger and Sehun’s growing sense of foreboding reaches a boiling point._ _

__“But what?” Sehun asks, heart pounding. “I don’t understand. You said everyone was fine.”_ _

__“There’s no easy way to say this,” Kyungsoo starts. “And I didn’t want to be the one to tell you but I also don’t agree with how they’ve kept this information from you for this long. You’re injured, not an invalid.”_ _

__Kyungsoo reaches for him again, sits close and takes one of Sehun’s hands in his, the other curled around his nape in a gesture of solidarity maybe, or of comfort. Sehun braces himself for impact._ _

___“Baekhyun,”_ Kyungsoo utters his name like a curse, “He lied to us, faked that call and set us up that night. Now he’s gone.”_ _

__

__

__

__

__

__

__

__Kyungsoo leaves when Sehun asks him to._ _

__He doesn’t ask Sehun if he’s sure, doesn’t putter around or look for excuses to stay. He doesn’t even hesitate at the doorway. He just gets up, gathers all the dishes and does as Sehun asks._ _

__When he’s gone, Sehun hobbles his way back into the bathroom and bruises his knees when he goes down, promptly retching into the toilet._ _

__The force of his heaving is disproportionate to the meager contents of his stomach, robbing him of breath and making his head spin as pain radiates from the wound on his chest. Darkness dots his peripheral vision and he fights to keep his eyes focused, leaning against the porcelain for what seems like an eternity before the pain passes. When he can move again, he needs another shower, smelling like sick and feeling like it too._ _

__It takes nearly all of his strength to get clean again but he manages, the only casualty being the soaked bandage on his chest. He peels the adhesive off with trembling fingers, hands fumbling for the package of clean gauze he’d found in a first aid kit under the sink. He doesn’t even bother to assess the wound further, unable to focus on anything other than the harsh sound of his panting, breath coming in aborted gasps._ _

__The longer he’s up and about, the more he feels like the world is spinning, his chest burdened with an invisible weight. Less stabbing and more heavy, but just as painful. The agony of Baekhyun’s betrayal, the sting of being kept in the dark - all of it makes him want to be sick again. Nausea threatens to overtake him but he fights against it, deep breaths in and out until he feels safe enough to move away from the sink._ _

__Back in the bedroom, he’s surprised to find that he’s no longer alone._ _

__“Who—” he staggers back, trying to put distance between him and the intruder, but the sudden movement causes pain to shoot all across the left side of his chest again. He doesn’t get very far and any space he puts between them would be pointless anyway._ _

__“So you’re the _airbender,_ ” the trespasser grins from where he’s sprawled over the bed. “You don’t look so good.” With a muffled pop and a ripple of air, he’s closer, leaning into Sehun’s space and peering up at him with eerie, mismatched eyes. Without a doubt, this must be _Kai_. “Maybe you should lay down.” _ _

__Before Sehun can react, the man with Jongin’s face taps him on the chest._ _

__With a broken gasp, the world dissolves around them and for a moment, Sehun feels weightless, his very existence drawn out and scattered into a million fractured pieces, hurtling past bright lights and rainbows. He doesn’t have time to breathe or become dizzy because in a wink he’s _whole_ again, the atoms of his body bypassing space and time to reconstruct itself horizontally on the bed. _ _

__His stomach rebels as soon as his head hits the pillow. With another ripple of air he’s turned on his side and his head aimed at a basin seemingly pulled out of thin air._ _

__He dry heaves into it, his stomach with nothing left to give except bile and the lingering weight of anxiety that refuses to leave._ _

__“Gross,” Kai says, wrinkling his nose. The expression is so odd on his face – Jongin’s face really, both familiar and not - that Sehun doesn’t know how to feel. Kai’s hands are steady on his back though, and he doesn’t move away when Sehun has to duck his head again when his stomach rolls. He even hands Sehun a damp towel and a glass of water afterward, blinking in and out from beside the bed as if he couldn’t be bothered to walk._ _

__“What do you want?” Sehun asks curtly, trying to inject more venom, more caution, _something,_ into his tone. He knows he’s failing when Kai smirks, the same infuriating one he’s seen on Jongin’s face a million times, and effortlessly pushes him to lay back down onto the bed. “How did you even –” he stops himself before he can continue, realizing how dumb it would sound to ask this man how he got in._ _

__Kai just grins, cocking his head and watching Sehun curiously. His gaze is unnerving, his mismatched eyes - one shifting from green to blue and the other just pupil - roam over Sehun’s face slowly, methodically, as if trying to parse out every detail._ _

__He reaches out, and Sehun would pull back if he had anywhere to go, but he’s already propped up against the headrest in some pretense of defiance. He can only lay there, jaws clenched as the other man traces down the right side of his face, from his brow and down his right eye and cheek. His fingers are calloused but surprisingly gentle. Sehun fights the urge to turn his head away, not wanting to show any more weakness than he already has._ _

__“Hm,” Kai hums, as if considering. “You really do look alike. I wonder if all of you looks the same.”_ _

__“What- ”Sehun starts, alarmed, but before he can continue there’s a commotion outside his door, loud footsteps and yelling. They glance at the door at the same time._ _

__“Whoops, looks like it’s time to go. Bye Sehunnie.” With a wink and another infuriating smirk, he disappears._ _

__“Fuck- ”_ _

__“Where is he?”_ _

__“Are you okay? Did he come in here? Did he hurt you?”_ _

__One by one they burst through his door. Chanyeol is there first, eyes wild, with a heat that follows him the moment he steps into the room. He stops abruptly at the entrance and Jongdae and Kyungsoo have to push him out of the way to get inside._ _

__“Sehun-ah, are you okay?” Jongdae asks, rushing to the bedside. “That Kai. Was he here? Did he hurt you?”_ _

___Yes, he was here. No he didn’t hurt me,_ Sehun thinks, suddenly, irrationally, overwhelmed. He shakes his head and gestures vaguely to the basin still on the floor. _ _

__Jongdae curves a hand against the side of his face, fingers rubbing at his ear, his gaze earnest, concerned. “He, what? What happened? He was here, wasn’t he?”_ _

__“He helped me,” Sehun says, flinching away from Jongdae’s soothing fingers._ _

__Jongdae frowns at the hand now devoid of Sehun’s face. “What do you mean?”_ _

__“Fuck-”_ _

__They both turn to the sound of Chanyeol cursing, Kyungsoo by his side, looking like it's unclear if he’s holding him up or holding him back._ _

__“Fuck-“ he says again, eyes blazing and the temperature in the room rising by several degrees. “It was my fault. It was me. I was supposed to be watching him but he got away from me. I didn’t think he’d— he said wouldn’t leave their Sehun’s bedside. Just in case we tried to hurt him. I didn’t think- I didn’t think- ”_ _

__“That’s enough Yeol. It’s okay. Sehun is fine,” Kyungsoo says, fingers gripping Chanyeol’s shoulder, seemingly unbothered by the heat rippling around the taller man’s form. “You’re fine, right?” He directs at Sehun._ _

__Sehun nods._ _

__“All right let's go,” Kyungsoo says. “We have to find Kai and make sure he’s back on the other side of the compound before he causes any more trouble. It’s almost time for Yixing hyung to switch over here.”_ _

__“I don’t think Sehun should be here by himself,” Jongdae argues. “Not until we know Kai is contained and stays only where we agreed upon. Who knows what he might do the next time he decides to slip away from us.”_ _

__“You’re right,” Kyungsoo agrees. “But Sehun needs some time alone right now, okay?”_ _

__“But- ”_ _

__“Let’s go Dae.” Kyungsoo says in a tone that brooks no argument. He starts ushering Chanyeol out the door, who doesn’t even put up a fight, just looks back at Sehun with anguished eyes._ _

__“Fine,” Jongdae says after a tense, silent exchange with Kyungsoo that Sehun doesn’t bother to interpret. He looks like he wants to reach for Sehun again, but he stops himself with another frown. “But I don’t care if it's not time yet, I’m sending Yixing hyung over right away. You shouldn’t be alone Sehun, not while those assholes are here.”_ _

__“Jongdae-”_ _

__“Yeah, I’m coming.” He moves to go, but turns around again with a stubborn look on his face, his perpetually-upward curving mouth pressed into a thin line. “Look, I know you’re angry. We should have told you earlier. What Baekhyun did, it was-“ Jongdae blows out a harsh breath and runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. For the first time, Sehun notices how haggard he looks._ _

__Jongdae isn’t finished. “At this point, we still don’t know all the facts, and another hard truth no one seems to want to talk about around here is that you almost _died._ You were so close to _dead_ we had to ask the enemy for help. So even if you’re angry, just know that after losing Baekhyun and almost losing you-,” He forces Sehun to look at him with his thumb and forefinger under Sehin’s chin. This close and unable to force his gaze away, he can see the way Jongdae’s eyes flash, bolts of thunder barely contained; it makes static electricity buzz in the air. “-I’m not taking any chances.”_ _

__And then he’s gone, propelling himself out of the room with a snap of power, leaving only a trail of static electricity and the smell of ozone in his wake. Kyungsoo hauls Chanyeol out of the room with barely a backward glance. The door closes behind them with a decisive thud._ _

__Alone once again, for sure this time, Sehun doesn’t have the energy to sit up. He sinks into the bed and lets the heavy feeling in his chest manifest itself. It’s so different from the sharp pain of injury, which is still very much there, lingering, waiting for any sudden movement to make itself known. No, the weight of betrayal robs him of breath in another way, it takes away rational thought and feeling too._ _

___How?_ He asks himself. _Why?__ _

__Over and over he asks himself, lying in bed with no concept of time beyond the ticking of a second hand clock somewhere in the room. Pressure, pressure, pressure, and tension - it builds and builds until he can no longer hold back a sob, hot wet tears threatening to roll down his face. He stops their trajectory with an arm thrown over his face, eyes burning, trying to quell the wet sound of his staggered breathing._ _

__He falls into a fitful sleep. His dreams are scattered and bizarre._ _

__First a long, white hallway filled with closed doors that echo open behind him but when he turns around they’re shit again. Then a room with glass for walls and the silhouette of dozens of hands obscured by smoke as they press against glass. Darkness through it all, tinted in red, with a prickle of light at the far end of the void, beckoning to him, urging him to reach out._ _

__He wakes up just as tired as when he’d fallen asleep, starving now, and unable to shake the lingering feeling of being watched as he’d slept. It’s also the first time he’s had to wake up alone and the experience is disorienting. He hasn’t been alone for long though, if the wrinkled sheets on the bed are anything to go by, still a little warm._ _

__Sehun sits up slowly with a little effort, wary of his injury. The bandage looks like it’s been replaced, with neat edges and an appropriate amount of tape. He rolls his shoulder, marveling at the ability to do so without crying out in pain. It already feels better than the last time he was awake. His eyes are gritty with dried tears but he doesn’t have a headache despite how he’d fallen asleep, so there’s no doubt who’d shared the bed with him not too long ago._ _

__He makes quick work of cleaning up in the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth before venturing out of the bedroom for the first time in what seems like days, maybe even weeks. The clock on the wall reads at half past two but he has no idea what day it is or if it’s two in the morning or the afternoon. There are no windows in this part of the compound, the bunks and makeshift infirmary deep underground for added security._ _

__The halls are quiet and empty on his way to the kitchen. This far underground it's chilly too; they have to stay off the grid as much as possible and can’t expend too much energy on heating. He shivers as he rifles through the fridge’s contents, meager as they are. There’s still some left over soup he remembers from the last time he’d been awake. He heats it up and makes himself comfortable at the small dining table to eat. He has to remind himself to slow down in case his stomach decides to rebel again._ _

__It isn’t long before someone comes looking for him._ _

__Between one blink and the next, Jongin is doing a 360 spin around the kitchen, eyes looking a little frantic and heaving an audible sigh of relief when he finds Sehun at the table._ _

__“There you are,” he says, coming over. “Been looking all over for you.”_ _

__Sehun nods, swallowing before he hums in agreement. He tries not to meet Jongin’s eyes, but Kai’s face flashes in his mind, juxtaposed against the Jongin in front of him and that moment’s hesitation is all Jongin needs. Before he can tell him not to sit, Jongin is already taking a seat across from him. He doesn’t say anything, just watches Sehun watching him, a pregnant silence between them. It’s almost comfortable, the way most things with Jongin are. But the weight of betrayal sits between them, more than just Baekhyun’s, and they aren’t the same people they were before Sehun took an arrow to the chest._ _

__“You’re angry,” Jongin says, throwing the words out into the silence. The words sit there for a long moment while Sehun finds the words to reply, unsure all the while if he wants to engage in the first place._ _

__What he decides on is, “I don’t know.” It’s as close to the gaping emptiness he’s feeling, like the arrow had left a hole where his heart is supposed to be._ _

__“I understand,” Jongin says._ _

__“Do you?” Sehun asks, the first stirrings of anger and frustration spiking underneath the haze he’s been since he’d woken up._ _

__“Do you think you’re the only one feeling like the world’s slipped out from under them?” Jongin asks with a stubborn set of his jaw. “Do you think you’re the only one reeling from everything that’s going on? Because you aren’t. He was on _our _team. _Our_ hyung. He was-” Jongin has to stop and look away. Under the harsh kitchen lighting, it’s obvious he’s blinking back more than just emotions. “He was mine too.”___ _

____Sehun knows Jongin is right. Knows that he probably isn’t the only one hurting, knows that he’s not the only one allowed to feel this way. But it feels too real, like this, too soon, too raw. All Sehun wanted was some food, he wasn’t ready for a heart to heart._ _ _ _

____He gets up from the table with nothing else to say and heads for the sink. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Jongin won’t be there when he’s done with the dishes._ _ _ _

____He thinks about going after him, but finds that he still wouldn’t know what to say. How do you speak to someone who’s going through the same things? Who is just as much a victim, tricked into trusting the light, only to be left in the darkness? Sehun doesn’t even feel like himself anymore, like having a hole in his chest left an eraser in his head, too. He feels lost and confused, and like the only people he’d usually turn to are the ones who made him lose his way in the first place._ _ _ _

____He doesn’t know who to trust anymore. He doesn’t know how to feel. Yixing can heal his body but Sehun doesn’t think he can do anything about his heart._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____With the exception of Yixing, the others make themselves scarce._ _ _ _

____Even with the stubbornness pulling at his insides, Yixing looks at him with such pleading, hopeful eyes that Sehun begrudgingly pulls the covers back for him. He pulls Sehun close, tucking him under his chin, never mind that Sehun towers over him, with wider shoulders and considerably more bulk. Yixing doesn’t talk either, just holds him, no powers involved, no healing energy._ _ _ _

____It’s the most lucid Sehun has felt, the most calm, the most peaceful. If only everything else could be as simple._ _ _ _

____“I’m…angry,” he says into the hollow of Yixing’s throat._ _ _ _

____Yixing squeezes him, ruffles his hair, and rubs at his ear. “I know. Me too. All of us are.”_ _ _ _

____“It-” Sehun inhales deeply, prepares himself for the amount of honesty he needs to be able to move past the lump in his throat. “It hurts.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, baby,” Yixing hugs him even closer, squeezes him even harder, presses Sehun’s face into his chest as if he could merge their bodies together. “You know if I could, I’d take the pain away. I’d do it in a heartbeat.”_ _ _ _

____Neither of them acknowledge the things left unsaid. That Sehun knows this is the kind of pain he’s got to work through on his own. No amount of Yixing’s healing power could dull the sharp pain of betrayal. He returns Yixing’s embrace just as tightly._ _ _ _

____“How is he?” He asks later, when the swell of emotion has passed and sleepiness is creeping up on him again. “The other me. What’s he like?”_ _ _ _

____“Better,” Yixing answers quietly, sounding just as tired as Sehun feels. “He was in a pretty bad way when they first arrived. Just as bad as you. For a second there I- I almost thought you both wouldn’t make it.” Then, even more quietly, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more afraid in my life.”_ _ _ _

____“Sorry,” Sehun murmurs, fisting the back of Yixing’s shirt, pulling him close again. While he does feel genuinely sorry for worrying anyone, he’s too tired now to muster up energy for anger or stubbornness._ _ _ _

____“Shh, it’s okay,” Yixing presses a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re both out of danger now, though he hasn’t been awake for longer than a few minutes at a time. I’m not sure what things are like for them, but it didn’t seem like he was given anything beyond basic medical attention. The other two that came with him - Kai and Chen - they don’t like to talk much, but from what little I’ve gathered, they don’t have anyone like me on their team.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s because you’re special,” Sehun says, “Our one and only _healing unicorn.”__ _ _ _

____“Please, not with the unicorn jokes,” Yixing groans and Sehun can almost hear his eyes roll. “You must be feeling better, if you can start teasing.”_ _ _ _

____Sehun makes a noncommittal noise._ _ _ _

____“Hey,” Yixing pulls back and tilts Sehun’s face to meet his eyes. “Talk to the rest of them, okay? It’s been a really tough couple of days for everyone. We may look sane, but we’d move heaven and earth for you, you know that right? The only reason the others haven’t hunted Baekhyun down yet is because they want to make sure you’re alive. Even if it means breaking all the rules, conniving with the enemy, and staying put.”_ _ _ _

____Sehun remains quiet, frowning, but ultimately he knows Yixing is right. He just needs a little more time to wallow._ _ _ _

____“Come on now,” Yixing says, lightly pinching Sehun in the cheek. “Be a good boy and listen to your hyung.”_ _ _ _

____Sehun frowns, wrinkling his nose. “I’ll think about it.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s all I ask.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____When Yixing tries to get up, Sehun won’t let him go easily._ _ _ _

____“Take me with you,” he says, twining long limbs around the older man. “I- I want to see him. The other me.”_ _ _ _

____Yixing sighs, not trying very hard to escape. “Eat, first, then take your medicine. I’ll talk to Junmyeon. It might not be safe, but it might be a good idea for you guys to meet. You can feel it, right? The connection between you two?” He lays a palm over Sehun’s injury, no more than a dull ache now, scabbing over and still ugly, but healing._ _ _ _

____His touch is warm with power, but not the kind to put Sehun to sleep or provide comfort. It’s the kind of power that taps into Sehun’s core, intertwining their energies and making him aware of his own. It’s almost like a mingling of their souls, an act so intimate Sehun shivers with it. Anyone else and it would feel invasive - wrong - but the intrusion is so gentle and Sehun trusts Yixing so completely that it only feels like being wrapped in a very warm cocoon. It’s there, with Yixing’s power softly stroking at his own that Sehun realizes there’s another presence mingling with them. It’s faint, but there: a ripple of energy that feels familiar but not one Sehun recognizes._ _ _ _

____“I didn’t notice it right away because you were so injured,” Yixing whispers, holding Sehun close. “But it’s there.”_ _ _ _

____“What does it mean?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t know,” Yixing answers, withdrawing his energy slowly, making Sehun want to chase after his warmth. “But I think it’s important that we find out more about it. Chen and Kai, they won’t let Jongin or Jongdae anywhere near them. The closest they’ve come to violence while they’ve been here is whenever Jongin and Jongdae are around. So I suspect they must know something more about this connection that we don’t.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____Apart from Yixing, no one else thinks it's a good idea that the doppelgänger’s stay any longer than they need to, even when he argues that something isn’t quite right. Junmyeon shuts him down quickly, and the others follow suit._ _ _ _

____“Don’t you want to know what they are? Why do they exist?” Yixing reasons, “This might be our last chance to find out.”_ _ _ _

____Junmyeon shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous. The only reason they haven’t attacked us outright while they’ve been here is because they need something from us. Who knows what they’ll do when they’ve all recovered? I refuse to put us in any more danger than we need. Not right now.” He glances at Sehun, but Sehun can’t meet his eyes._ _ _ _

____It’s almost cruel. From what Yixing’s told him, the other Sehun is still bedridden and weak, only just starting to heal. To have them leave now might undo all the work Yixing’s done to keep him alive._ _ _ _

____But Junmyeon refuses to be reasoned with._ _ _ _

____“How long?” He asks Yixing. “How long do you need to make sure he’s stable and able to heal on his own?”_ _ _ _

____“Two days,” Yixing answers, mouth pursed into a thin line and dimple flashing in frustration as he gnaws on the inside of his cheek. “Maybe three if his fever comes back.”_ _ _ _

____Junmyeon nods decisively and leaves the room, the others filing out after him. Only Yixing stays, but that’s because it’s still Sehun’s turn._ _ _ _

____“We have at least three days,” he says, squeezing Sehun’s shoulder, a determined look in his eyes. “We’ll figure it out.”_ _ _ _

____Turns out, ‘figuring it out’ meant Kai popping back in._ _ _ _

____“Let’s go, Sehunnie, time’s ticking,” he says just hours later when he appears next to Sehun’s bed. He’s got an hourglass in one hand, the sand inside glowing bright red as it spills into the bottom half. Before Sehun can so much as say a word, Kai grabs for his hand and just like before, they’re splintering into a tiny million pieces._ _ _ _

____The world spins, light and shadow passing by in a fraction of a second and suddenly they’re whole again, Sehun’s mind and body reformed in a familiar bedroom. Familiar faces also greet him, but there’s something odd about them._ _ _ _

____Chanyeol and Kyungsoo sit in chairs on opposite sides of the room, bodies frozen, and eyes blank, unseeing. Yixing is in another chair on the bed, similarly unmoving. They aren’t even breathing._ _ _ _

____“Look who’s come to visit,” Kai says, greeting another two on the bed. “Say hi, _Hünnie.”__ _ _ _

____Even their nicknames it seems, are the same. The way Kai says it, with a little inflection on the vowels is a subtle difference, but an unmistakable one._ _ _ _

_____Hünnie_ doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to. Chen answers for him. _ _ _ _

____“Well, well,” Chen drawls, mouth curling in such a familiar, haunting way. The lip ring attached to his right ear by two dangling silver chains clink softly when he speaks. “We were wondering when you’d show up. See Sehünnie, no need to fret. You’re still way cuter than he is, even half way dead.”_ _ _ _

____“You’re not going to throw up again, are you?” Kai says as he eyes Sehun warily._ _ _ _

____Sehun shakes his head, ears flushing at the memory of the last time they met._ _ _ _

____“Good, because I don’t have time to rub your back right now. Come on, let’s go,” he says to Chen. Then, to Sehün on the bed. “Time’s ticking. You’ve got five minutes.”_ _ _ _

____“Bye, cutie,” Chen says, stepping into the circle of Kai’s arms. He chucks Sehun lightly under the chin with two fingers, his touch electric. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”_ _ _ _

____Sehun blinks and they’re gone._ _ _ _

____For all the anticipation, meeting his doppelgänger is…anticlimactic._ _ _ _

____They size each other up, wasting time, precious seconds ticking by. They definitely look alike, mirror images of each other down to the tiny mole on Sehun’s neck, just underneath his chin. He’s got a flat look on his face, the same one Sehun has practiced in the mirror countless times. It’s meant to look unfazed and disinterested, hiding all thoughts and emotions behind a muted gaze and a jade-like expression. He’s got flaws though, the most noticeable one a raised scar that bisects the right side of his face, from the eyebrow down to the cheek. His right eye is an expanse of milky white, without a pupil and fixed in one position. It makes him look menacing and creepy without even trying._ _ _ _

____“What did you do to them?” Sehun asks, breaking the silence and gesturing at the motionless people in the room._ _ _ _

____“They’re fine,” Sehün says, his voice rough from obvious disuse. “We may not have a healer on our side, but we have someone who can manipulate time.”_ _ _ _

____Sehun files that information away for later. He has other, more pressing questions to ask._ _ _ _

____“We’re connected,” he says, tapping himself on the chest. Sehün raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say _obviously._ “You didn’t know that before you started attacking us, did you?”_ _ _ _

____Sehün tips his chin, somewhat reluctantly. “If I did, I would have aimed that arrow elsewhere.”_ _ _ _

____“There are too many unknowns. It doesn’t feel right.”_ _ _ _

____“Agreed,” Sehün says, which isn’t the answer Sehun is expecting. “It seems there might be more traitors among us.”_ _ _ _

____The weight of that information weighs heavily on them, and Sehun has to file it away again. Has it been five minutes yet?_ _ _ _

____“Will you look for them?” Sehun asks. They both know exactly who he’s talking about._ _ _ _

____“No.”_ _ _ _

____“Why not?”_ _ _ _

____Sehün catches his gaze, a hard expression on his face. “I can’t, not if you want either of them back alive.”_ _ _ _

____“What do you mean?”_ _ _ _

____“The bond between us is closer than you think. Not the one between you and me,” he clarifies, “But me and…mine. We’re connected too. Even if I wanted to save him, I couldn’t. This kind of deviation causes more than just physical pain, but even a psychological one. He should be unstable, ready to self-destruct. And for the rest of us, it’s almost like a switch, a compulsion. We wouldn’t be able to let him live if we ever found him- them.”_ _ _ _

____“Then why hasn’t anyone from your side hunted them down yet?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t know,” Sehün says with a frustrated shrug of his shoulders. “According to everything we’ve been told, we should all be consumed with rage and bloodlust right now, satisfied only with the blood of the traitor on our hands. But we aren’t.”_ _ _ _

____Sehun blows out a harsh breath at that revelation. It’s obvious something else has changed, a shift in the power of the unknown entity playing all of their strings. It happened between him and the mirror of himself on the be, and it probably happened to Baekhyun and his. “That’s why they left,” he says, with dawning realization. “They figured out, that all of us were being played.”_ _ _ _

____Sehün nods. “But by whom?”_ _ _ _

____Neither of them have any answer and they don’t have the luxury of time to ruminate._ _ _ _

____“You need to find them before we do,” Sehün says decisively. “Because I don’t know how long this compulsion to kill will lie dormant. Chen and Kai seem to be fine, but I don’t know about the others. If they’re more affected and started hunting, we won’t see either Bäekhyun alive again-”_ _ _ _

____“-all right princess, time’s up,” Kai says appearing at Sehün’s bedside with a little whirl. “We gotta go.”_ _ _ _

____“Wait-” Sehun says as Kai leans over to lift his doppelgänger out of the bed. “How do I know I can trust you?”_ _ _ _

____“You can’t,” Sehün answers, looping lanky arms around Kai’s neck. He points at the wound on his chest, and Sehun’s own chest throbs suddenly. “But if you don’t, we might as well shoot each other again and be done with it.”_ _ _ _

____“You guys are so dramatic,” Kai says with a roll of his eyes._ _ _ _

____With another wink in Sehun’s direction, they’re both gone._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____The fall out from their escape hurts almost like a second betrayal. Nevermind that they would have been chased out sooner or later._ _ _ _

____The moment they disappear, time starts back up again, and Sehun stands by himself in the middle of the room, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo gaping at him, and then at the empty bed. Chaos ensues, and Yixing is the only one who doesn’t start yelling._ _ _ _

____Junmyeon is livid, so are Chanyeol, Kyungsoo and Jongdae. They bombard Sehun with questions he refuses to answer, and they yell some more. Chanyeol almost blows out a wall when he can no longer control his temper and only Minseok’s icy touch keeps his wild flames in check. Jongdae and Kyungsoo don’t understand why he won’t talk, and more than their yelling, the doubt in their eyes and in their tone hurts the most._ _ _ _

____“What are you hiding, Oh Sehun?” Junmyeon asks him point blank, disappointment clear on his face._ _ _ _

____“Nothing,” Sehun repeats, “I already told you, Kai brought me here just so they could tell me we should look for Baekhyun hyung. Then they left.”_ _ _ _

____“How?” Junmyeon presses him. “How did they come and go without anyone else knowing, when Chanyeol and Kyungsoo were right there, when Yixing was _right there.”__ _ _ _

____“I don’t know!” Sehun yells this time, his own temper wearing thin. Wind rattles the windows and he has to take deep breaths to reel the power back in. “I told you, I don’t know. I don’t know where they went, or how they left, or what their plans are. I don’t know anything.”_ _ _ _

____“You’re lying-”_ _ _ _

____“I’m not-”_ _ _ _

____“All right, that’s enough,” Yixing says, raising his voice to be heard over their heated argument. “Sehun has already told us everything he knows. We have to believe him. Now is not the time to accuse each other of lying. There’s already enough of that going around.”_ _ _ _

____Maybe it’s because Yixing rarely raises his voice, or maybe they’re all just done with fighting, but the argument de-escalates from there. Junmyeon leaves, anger marring his usually handsome face. “We aren’t done yet,” he throws over his shoulder, the others following after him. “This isn’t over.”_ _ _ _

____“Come on, that’s enough,” Yixing says more quietly, effectively cutting off Sehun's rude reply by tugging at his shoulder. Soon they’re alone and back in the room Sehun’s been staying in. “You need to rest. You’re still not completely healed yet.”_ _ _ _

____“Hyung, I-”_ _ _ _

____“I know,” Yixing cuts him off again, fingers curling around the back of Sehun’s neck and pulling him closer so that their foreheads touch. With his other hand he takes something out of his pocket._ _ _ _

____It’s an hourglass, smaller than the one he’d seen with Kai, slim, no bigger than Yixing’s thumb. Confused, Sehun’s eyes go wide as it glows a dim red between them, pulsing in Yixing’s hand._ _ _ _

____“W-why do you have that?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s okay, Sehunnie,” Yixing says, his hand tightening around Sehun’s neck, prickling and sharp. “It’s all going to be alright.”_ _ _ _

____Then, the world goes black._ _ _ _


	2. Part 2: Baekhyun

(Baekhyun’s never been the type to run away, always preferring to face things head on. But when there had seemed like there’d been no other choice, he turned to someone who had a different experience. 

_But where will we go?_ He’d asked, almost expecting no answer because a reflection can’t answer you. A mirror doesn’t talk back. Except he wasn’t talking to a mirror and what answers wasn’t quite a reflection either. 

_Away from here,_ his not quite reflection had answered in the tones of his own voice, like an eerie playback of the thoughts in his head, the same tone but with different inflections. His own words coming out of a mouth that wasn’t quite his. 

Earlier, in the beginning, when all of this nonsense had first started, it’s that voice that caught his attention, made him stop and listen. Maybe it’s a little self centered, a little narcissistic, but Baekhyun had stopped for that voice, stopped and listened because that voice spoke the words in his head he couldn’t verbalize on his own. 

_You want out,_ that voice had whispered in his ear, too close for comfort but maybe not close enough. _So let’s go._

_It’s not that easy,_ Baekhyun had said, what he’d meant was, _why should I follow you?_

_You and I, we follow directions too well,_ that voice had replied, answering Baekhyun’s unasked question. _It’s what makes us good little soldiers. But good little soldiers aren’t what we’re meant to be, Baekhyunnie._

_Don’t call me that,_ he’d snapped. 

_Then when what should I call you?_ The voice laughed. 

_I just want this to end._

_And what makes you think fighting will make this end?_ That question stumped him. It’s a question with an answer Baekhyun had a hard time swallowing. Because he’d seen it, the little cracks in the plan, stains on the perfect bigger picture that had been shoved down his throat. A stain Baekhyun could no longer ignore. 

_But where will we go?_ Baekhyun had asked again, later. 

_I know a place,_ had been the answer, accompanied by a smirk that looked less reassuring and more sinister on that scarred face, with those half hidden eyes. _Will you follow me, Baekhyunnie?)_

(It’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, to slip away during the thick of battle, watching as his team, his friends, his _family,_ is overrun and overwhelmed by forces they could never have anticipated. It fills Baekhyun with an anguish, a fury directed at himself, like molten lava so hot he can’t hold back when it’s time for him to perform. Sword in hand and that shameless, smirking face looking back at him, Baekhyun comes at his doppelgänger hard, nothing like the carefully planned blows they’d agreed upon. 

_Bäekhyun_ \- the shameless bastard calls himself, that otherworldly, sinister inflection an echo on the first syllable of their name - parries no less skillfully. Every jab, every thrust, and every swipe of his sword is returned with equal intensity, their skills matched even in this. It’s unnerving not to be able to one up him, because Bäekhyun seems to know all his best moves and is able to counter every one. 

It keeps him focused, makes him pay attention so he doesn’t get stabbed in any way that isn’t planned. It keeps him from thinking about the smell of burnt flesh, the sound of flooding water, the feel of static electricity crackling like a live wire up and down the walls. It’s harder to ignore the wailing of the wind as a storm builds in the enclosed space of the abandoned building everyone had been lured to. He has to steel himself against every pained cry, the dull thud of a vulnerable body hitting the floor, startled and unaware. He has to temper his rage when a taunting cackle follows, or a goading coo, the words themselves lost in the malevolent maelstrom that almost knocks him off his feet.

A gust of harsh wind has even his doppelgänger stumbling, a slight misstep that has him lowering his sword as he reaches for Baekhyun in the melee.

_It’s time now,_ he mouths at Baekhyun almost imperceptibly, the fringes of his icy hair whipped away from his face, making visible for the first time the same features they share.

And it’s almost really like looking into a mirror then, because no matter the startling blue color – the only real difference between them – in the split second it takes for their eyes to meet, Baekhyun finds the same torment, the same determination reflected back at him.

It’s one of the hardest things Baekhyun has ever had to do but he follows.)

(They keep moving. 

Long stretches of highway, hours and hours on the road, silence interrupted only by the sound of wheels on tarmac and the wind in his hair. Baekhyun feels numb as he sits in the passenger seat of their stolen vehicle. It’s the third one in as many days since they’ve been on the run and he can’t even drum up the energy to care.

Their first stop is an abandoned church house. They have to leave the stolen car at the foot of a hill and skirt around a small town, hiking through dense trees before they get to it. The windows have been boarded up, as is the front door, but Bäekhyun makes quick work of kicking it down. It splinters with a crack and a shower of dust and broken wood. “Pit stop,” Bäekhyun says. “Don’t get too comfortable.

Inside, sunlight pokes through patches of the dilapidated steeple and broken roof. It’s small, barely enough to fit more than a few pews and an altar, a wooden cross nailed to the front of the room. Baekhyun makes his way inside slowly, warily; he can’t help but feel like he’s being watched. 

“I didn’t peg you for a religious kind of guy,” Baekhyun comments.

“I’m not, really,” Bäekhyun smirks from behind the pulpit. He definitely looks out pf place there, standing under broken stained glass and depictions of Jesus in his shiny black leather and face chain. “But everyone needs _someone_ or _something_ to pray to, at one point or another.” He pulls out two black duffel bags from under a pile of debris and they’re off again. 

They drive away in a car that’s seen better days, a little run down but nondescript with a full tank that takes them through back roads, weaving in and out of alleyways until they’re out of the city and heading down the highway to another one. He let’s Bäekhyun drive; his own hands are shaking too much, chest splintering from the heavy weight of what they’d just done. He’s more likely to run them off the road at this rate, than get them anywhere safe.

“Where are we going?” he thinks to ask at one point when it seems like they’ve been driving forever.

“You’ll see,” the cryptic bastard replies, his tone light but there’s no hint of teasing on his face.

Baekhyun lets the subject drop. He can’t blame Bäekhyun for being secretive anyway; it’s both in their nature to rely on half-truths to survive, a life carved out of ambiguity and subtle manipulation. Baekhyun can’t contribute to this part of the plan anyhow. He’s got his own safe houses all over the place, both on and off the record, and even if some of those places aren’t tagged, the people who know him best will know where to look.

Bäekhyun doesn’t seem to have this problem, sneering disdainfully as he’d listed potential hideaways.

“Too predictable, Baekhyunnie,” he’d said. “Too easy.”

Baekhyun hadn’t bothered with a comeback or to correct the too-familiar use of his name. He’s too lost in the turmoil of his own thoughts. He can’t stop thinking about how he’s only ever followed _one man,_ has only ever really listened, and valued the opinion of _one man._ No matter that they answered to a higher power; Baekhyun has only ever trusted Junmyeon’s word. The older man had earned it, had broken bones and spilled blood for him, for every single one of them. 

But it's betrayal that brought Baekhyun here, to this point, sitting in a stolen car and running away from the only people he’s cared about, with someone who’d been made to kill him. 

It’s betrayal that started all of this; what hurts the most is that the betrayal wasn’t his own.)

(“Aren’t you afraid they’ll come for you?” Baekhyun asks skeptically as Bäekhyun leads him up the rickety fire escape of a run down apartment complex. 

The complex itself is in a seedier part of the new town they’ve run away to, the kind of place with people who don’t ask questions about what goes on at street corners and alleyways. The kind of place where people watch you with one eye, behind fluttering curtains and boarded up windows. Baekhyun’s familiar with these kinds of places, knows how to seek refuge even among the outcasts of society. He has to admit it’s not a bad place to hide out _even if,_ he thinks a little bitterly, _it’s a predictable one._

“Who? By your people?” Bäekhyun sneers over his shoulder. “I’d like to see them try.”

He stops at a window on the fifth floor. It’s just big enough to fit a body through, which is what Bäekhyun does after he carves away at the glass with a concentrated beam of light, just enough to slip his hand inside to turn the latch. Baekhyun watches, hands clenched into fists unconsciously at how the beam is precise, steady and unwavering. His own power prickles at his fingertips, an influx of energy that doesn’t feel anywhere steady at all.

“I meant _your_ people.” Baekhyun says once they’re inside. He watches Bäekhyun carefully melt the circle of glass back onto the window before pulling the dusty curtains closed. “Won’t they come looking for you?”

Bäekhyun hums noncommittally, going to a panel on the wall and turning switches. The overhead lights come on, as well as the sound of various appliances coming back to life. For such a sketchy neighborhood, the apartment they’ve broken into seems fairly well furnished, with a small couch, a dining table with four chairs and even a small refrigerator. A thin layer of dust coats every surface but they’ve been driving for days and Baekhyun could care less, he’s so exhausted. He sits himself on the small couch with a little cough at the dust that goes flying.

“We aren’t scarily codependent like you guys are,” Bäekhyun finally answers, pulling two familiar green bottles out of a cabinet somewhere. He shakes it around with a flourish before twisting the cap off and handing it to Baekhyun. “If they come looking for me, it won’t be to take me back alive.”

The burn of soju is also familiar as it goes down, but Baekhyun doesn’t mind it, even relishes the feeling. They aren’t on ceremony here, so they swig from their respective bottles after Bäekhyun says a little mocking toast. 

“To freedom,” he says. “And world peace.”)

(When Baekhyun wakes up there’s light outside, strips of it slicing through the curtains. It’s morning and his head is killing him. 

“Fuck,” he groans, sitting up. He’d fallen asleep on the couch and now he’s got a crick in his neck, mouth all sour and full of cotton, the smell of alcohol invading his nostrils. He’s pants-less, with only an undershirt on and a vague memory of taking his clothes off. It’s good to know not even life altering bad decisions could quell his bad habits. 

He goes looking for the bathroom, only to realize it must be in the bedroom, since the apartment they’ve commandeered isn’t very big to begin with. With a frown, he goes into the only bedroom as quietly as he can, though he’s disoriented and bumbling in his efforts. There’s a lump on the bed that he assumes is Bäekhyun. The asshole took the bed for himself and left him out on the couch without even a blanket. 

Baekhyun slams the bathroom door then, no longer caring about waking the other man when his sense of hospitality was clearly lacking. 

He showers, taking his time to remove the build up of dirt and grime of the past few days. The water is lukewarm at best but it's still refreshing, even if he has to let it run for a few minutes to get it clear. He revels in the momentary feeling of peace cleanliness brings him, even if it doesn’t last. 

Baekhyun notices first the barely there ripple of air, cool and sending goosebumps down his back, then it’s the slight movement in a corner of one eye. Baekhyun reacts first, body moving out of instinct- he grabs the knife he’d stuck between shampoo bottles and slashes at the shower curtains before he can really think, aiming for something solid, something moving, just outside of the stall. 

He’s countered quickly, an elbow to his forearm and another hand aiming for his throat. Baekhyun twists around and entangles the intruder in the shower curtain, pulling it from its hooks from the bar above. He gets his shoulder rammed into the tiled walls behind him for his trouble, smacking the back of his head and his hand going slack on the knife in hands at the sudden impact. The world spins, two revolutions and just a second too late, he’s got an arm against his throat and blood in his mouth. 

“Good morning to you too,” Bäekhyun grins at him, breathless, eyes wild and sporting a long, thin cut along his right cheek. He looks entirely too energized after their scuffle. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Baekhyun gasps, bringing up an arm to pull uselessly at the offending elbow. Bäekhyun just clicks his tongue and presses his arm more forcibly against Baekhyun’s throat, making him gasp again. He’s naked, too and pressed this close- Baekhyun gasps again. 

“I only wanted a shower. You’re the one who tried to kill me.”

“I was- in here- first, asshole,” Baekhyun chokes out. 

“Yeah, so?” He eases back slowly, trying to gauge if he’ll be attacked again. Baekhyun has half a mind to do just that; he hates being caught off guard. He’s usually the one doing all the sneaking. 

“That means, get the fuck out.”

Bäekhyun arches a brow at him. “Why?” Then, one corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re shy, Baekhyunnie.”

“I told you, don’t fucking call me that.”

Bäekhyun ignores him. “You have nothing to be shy about. If your body is anything like mine, it’s definitely worth looking at.”

“No one wants to see your body,” Baekhyun retorts, but his eyes betray him, flickering over Bäekhyun’s involuntarily and he knows he’s caught. 

“Really?” Bäekhyun murmurs, coming in close again, this time caging Baekhyun in with both arms on either side of his head, leaning against the shower wall so that they share the same breath. “You aren’t curious? Not even a little?”

Baekhyun knows better than to engage. If he reacts, Bäekhyun will only goad him further. It’s what he would do after all, if their positions were reversed. He’s a master at playing the annoying little shit. He shouldn’t be surprised his doppelgänger is too. 

“No.” He says resolutely, maintaining eye contact this time. Up close, Bäekhyun’s eyes are an icy blue, mismatched and startling in their intensity. Usually they’re obscured by the long hair in his eyes, but here - damp from the spray of the shower head still running - Baekhyun can _see_ everything and he doesn’t want to. 

“Boo, you’re no fun,” Bäekhyun says, after another long moment where neither of them budge. The words fan against Baekhyun’s cheeks and he has to fight to keep his face neutral. 

“Hurry up, will you. The water’s getting cold.” He steps back, finally leaving, without even a backward glance in Baekhyun’s direction. He doesn’t bother closing the door. 

Baekhyun rushes to finish his shower, no longer comfortable in the confined space of the tiny bathroom. He makes do with only half the shower curtain up, not caring about all the water getting everywhere. 

When he steps out, there’s a bottle of painkillers on the bathroom sink where there wasn’t one before. He hadn’t seen or heard Bäekhyun come in.)

(They never stay in one place too long. At first it's one dingy apartment after another, doubling back into the same area a few times before moving onto another city yet again. The farther and farther away they get, however, Baekhyun notices their accommodations start to look less abandoned and a little more hospitable. 

“Nice place,” Baekhyun says when they enter a duplex in a neighborhood that looks downright suburban. They’d even used a key to get inside and everything. 

Bäekhyun’s lips quirk up in a semblance of a grin, eyes curved and glinting. “You like? There’s even running hot water and more than one bed.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, the act less petulant than usual. Maybe he’s just tired, or maybe it’s the prospect of taking a hot shower for the first time in what seems like ages, but he can’t seem to muster up the energy for a more scathing remark. Though, if he’s really being honest, all of their interactions lately have been less hostile. They’ve been on the road together for more than a few days now and their tenuous truce has slowly turned into a grudging partnership. Guilt still chips away at whatever is left of Baekhyun’s conscience and his chest aches at the shambled mess they’d left in their wake - he doesn’t think that will ever go away, not while they’re on the run - but at least Baekhyun doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open all the time. He can trust Bäekhyun enough not to stab him while he sleeps. 

He doesn’t, however, trust Bäekhyun with much else. Like cooking, for example. 

_“What is that?”_ Baekhyun walks into the kitchen with his nose in the air, grimacing at the smell of something burning. His eyes water at the smoke starting to thicken in the small space. 

Bäekhyun frowns at the smoking pan filled with a dark, charred substance he sticks under running water in the sink. “Open a window, will you? This was supposed to be dinner but I guess that’s out.”

Baekhyun hurries to do just that, before a smoke alarm inevitably gets triggered. Thankfully, there seems to be more than just instant noodles and soju in the cupboards - Baekhyun is able to add a little protein to the ramen with eggs and slices of cheese Bäekhyun magically procures from the fridge. It’s not much but its definitely better than all the alcohol and dehydrated rations they’ve been subsisting on so far. He’s no gourmet chef, but he at least knows how to elevate a packet of instant ramen. 

“This isn’t half bad, Baekhyunnie,” Bäekhyun says, blowing at the steaming noodles before slurping them into his mouth. 

“Definitely more edible compared to whatever you tried to make,” Baekhyun says. 

“It’s the thought that counts,” Bäekhyun replies, “I get an ‘A’ for effort.”

Baekhyun shoots him a dubious look, one that Bcaäekhyun returns with his usual smirk and a wink. He’s been doing that a lot. Winking at Baekhyun, watching him, his gaze sticky with an intent Baekhyun tries his hardest not to decipher. He’s afraid to explore what it means when Bäekhyun is unexpectedly honest, or his actions surprisingly thoughtful. He’s afraid of the curiosity Bäekhyun ignites in him - the kind that makes him want to ask about the thin scar that runs across his face, or why he has to hold his head sometimes when it’s too bright out and the sun is in his eyes. 

Even more scary is the way Baekhyun is transfixed by Bäekhyun’s power, his light burning crystal sharp, laser like and focused. It’s so different from the soft, malleable glow of his own. Unconsciously, it makes him look forward to their closed quarters, not entirely disturbed by the idea of sharing the same space, brushing up against each other in a tiny room. He has to stop himself sometimes, when they stand too close and Bäekhyun looks at him under hooded eyes and stands in place. Baekhyun has to stop himself from inching closer, from moving into the other’s gravitational pull, and doing something they hadn’t talked about or agreed upon. Even if they didn’t have a plan beyond we have to go, Baekhyun doesn’t think the plan includes…whatever this is beginning to fester between them.

“What are they like?” he asks that night, staring down into his half empty shot glass. It’s the only time he ever feels brave these days, letting his mouth run and blaming it on the alcohol. Under the moonlight and shrouded in darkness, Baekhyun asks the questions he wouldn’t dare to during the day.

“Who?” Bäekhyun asks, pouring himself a shot, and then topping off Baekhyun’s. His eyes are coy, as sharp as ever no matter the amount of alcohol they’ve already consumed. 

“Your- people. Your team. The other us.”

It takes Bäekhyun so long to answer Baekhyun figures he won’t answer at all. They’ve opened another bottle of soju by the time he does. 

“Twisted,” he decides after a while and a long swig straight from the bottle. “Me- us. We aren’t supposed to exist. But we do and, well-” he shrugs, the movement graceful and nonchalant. “It’s complicated.”

Baekhyun blinks at him, letting the words sit for a moment. It’s not really an answer and he doesn’t really understand it, but he’s learning more and more that with Bäekhyun, it's about reading between the lines. He asks another question instead. 

“Do you miss them?” He says, the words barely above a whisper. Baekhyun knows the answer he hopes to hear, said out loud in a voice practically his own. 

This time, Bäekhyun really doesn’t answer and that’s okay. They both know the answer anyway. 

_Yes._ )

(There’s no better way to lose a tail than in a crowd. Not that Baekhyun has any fear that they’re being followed. No, the feeling of being watched these days is different because he knows only one person is really watching him. 

The club is packed, its dancefloor crowded with gyrating bodies moving to the raucous music. The bass is pounding, the lights blinding as they flicker in and out. Baekhyun makes his way through the crowd with little direction. The alcohol running through his veins makes him bold but not too reckless. There are eyes watching him, and Baekhyun is waiting.

He lets people come close enough to touch - hands on hips, around his neck, in his hair - but never for long. He has to keep moving to keep their little game of cat and mouse going. There’s a thrill to it, this game they play, but they’ve never reached the end. One of them always stops before either of them can win, but not tonight. Tonight, Baekhyun is really the wolf in sheep’s clothing by playing the mouse, letting himself be caught so they can finally, finally claim the prize at the very end. 

He’s tired of running away, tired of the useless push and pull. Baekhyun is ready to fall. 

And he does, right against a firm chest, big hands coming to pull him up by the biceps. Baekhyun cranes his neck up up and up to see the man’s face - and what a pretty face indeed. 

“Careful there,” the stranger yells into his ear. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Baekhyun yells back. 

The nameless man grins at him, grin wide and teeth so white they glow in the club's blacklight. “Wanna dance?”

“Y-”

“Sorry, he’s taken.” Strong arms wrap around Baekhyun’s waist from behind. Baekhyun falls back into the familiar embrace with ease, smiling apologetically up at the stranger who’d saved him from stumbling. 

“No worries, it’s all good. Hey- are you guys twins?”

Bäekhyun twirls him away with a laugh and whispers into his ear, “How about we get out of here?”

They’re on their way home before Baekhyun can even say yes. 

Home - at least for the moment - is the penthouse of an expensive highrise, dozens and dozens of floors above street level, with a breathtaking view of the newest city they’ve found themselves in. They’ve already been here a few days, but Bäekhyun never seems to tire of the view, always keeping the floor to ceiling windows open, no matter the time of day. Baekhyun never says otherwise; they’re high up enough that whatever danger might be chasing them won’t be coming from the windows. 

They stumble inside and Bäekhyun presses him up the glass, aligning their bodies so that when they gasp at the same breath, Baekhyun can feel exactly why. 

“Did you have a good time tonight?” Bäekhyun asks him, stroking at the exposed ball of his shoulder where his jacket slipped off. He’s wearing a tank top underneath, the thin material feeling too hot. Bäekhyun had presented him with rings and necklaces before they’d gone out, a stash of jewelry that he’d slowly, indulgently helped Baekhyun put on. There’s an ear cuff as well, large and chunky, made of green jade and gold. There’s a matching one on Bäekhyun’s left ear, and it glints in the moonlight. 

Baekhyun shrugs lazily, the movement causing his jacket to slip off some more, taking the tank top with it until he can feel Bäekhyun’s breath on his exposed collar bone. He shivers a little, but not from the cold. 

“Could be better,” he says coyly, looking up at Bäekhyun from under hooded eyes. It’s a move easier said than done, considering they’re the same height, but he manages. “If you finally do something about this thing between us.”

Bäekhyun hums thoughtfully, cupping his face between palms just as rough as his own. Baekhyun swipes his tongue along his bottom lip and he’s entranced by the way Bäekhyun’s mismatched eyes track the movement. 

“There’s no going back after this,” he murmurs, pressing a thumb into the plush swell of Baekhyun’s bottom lip. “No running back to your hyungs, or your little friends. I won’t let you.”

Baekhyun inhales sharply at that, and thoughts of all he’d already left behind flashes through his mind. The friendship, the camaraderie, the intimacy and safety net of eight other hands making him feel like he belonged. The love too, the one he’d squirreled away in the deep recesses of his heart, without ever having the chance to grow, to soar and take flight because it didn’t belong in a world like theirs.

Baekhyun hesitates when he thinks about that love, but he forces himself to let it go, just like he’d let go of the chance to redeem himself the moment he chose to follow Bäekhyun instead. He’d let go of the only people who ever mattered in the hopes of saving them from themselves - a noble sacrifice, even if Bäekhyun is the only one who’ll ever know. 

“You too,” Baekhyun says, pushing away from the window to wrap his arms around Bäekhyun’s neck. “No going back either. I won’t let you.”

That’s a promise from Baekhyun more than anything, because he knows, too, just how much Bäekhyun sacrificed for freedom. He’s come to know just how painful it is for Bäekhyun to fight the voices in his head everyday, the compulsion to go back, to commit violence and more unspeakable things. Baekhyun knows, but only because he’s found that his presence helps, that being close, like this, wrapped around each other with no space in between, quiets the noise in Bäekhyun’s head. Quiets it enough so that Baekhyun can see the man underneath the scars and face chains, hidden beneath callous conditioning. He’s as much a victim of circumstance as Baekhyun is, which, at the end of the day, just makes them both a set of bleeding hearts. 

So it’s inevitable for the both of them to come together like this, sharing a kiss in the sky, witnessed only by the moonlight. 

Baekhyun can’t help but wonder how long this dream will last.)


	3. Part 3: Bäekhyun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Cue EXPLICIT rating**

“Come on, come on, there you go. Give it to me, give it to me Baekhyunnie,” he whispers raggedly as his hands stroke rapidly at Baekhyun’s cock. Baekhyun squirms in his lap, his nails digging into Bäekhyun’s thighs and leaving crimson lines in their wake. 

“Can’t-” Baekhyun gasps, shaking. “Too much.”

“Yeah, you can. One more, one more for me.” He bites at the column of Baekhyun’s throat, loves the way it's pulled taut to show off the litter of bruises and the imprint of his mouth. “Come on now,” he coaxes gently even as he uses two hands, twisting at the base and squeezing tight on the upstroke. It doesn’t take long for Baekhyun to come undone, spilling messily into his waiting hands. 

“See that Baekhyunnie? I knew you could do it.” He mouths at Baekhyun’s jaw, leaving kisses against the side of his face, his ear, while he flexes his fingers, cum glistening in his palm. “Fuck- there’s even so much of it.” 

He plays with Baekhyun’s cum a little longer, rubbing it into the skin of his lower abdomen, the muscles jumping with every pass. Bäekhyun lets him enjoy the afterglow, his own insistent need taking a backseat in the meantime. 

Eventually Baekhyun is the one that tugs his hands away from the mess on his stomach while saying, “Your turn,” in a raspy voice. “You can fuck me again if you want.”

“Tempting,” Bäekhyun answers, arranging the other man so that he can kneel over him. “But if I fuck you again we won’t be able to stop and we really need to be able to stop if we want our beauty sleep.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes at that but doesn’t protest, just pulls Bäekhyun up until he’s kneeling over Baekhyun’s chest instead of his hips. Then he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out. “Aim here,” he says, just to be an annoying little shit. 

“I’ll aim where I please,” Bäekhyun replies with a groan, hands moving fast on his dick, a mix of cum and lube making it a smooth slide. 

Baekhyun isn’t idle under him, his hands stroking at Bäekhyun’s thighs, squeezing at his hips, rubbing at his chest. Bäekhyun doesn’t need much in the way of encouragement, not with how long they’ve been at this already. He comes with a loud moan, his muscles going rigid as the tight coil of arousal in his gut snaps and he tries to aim, he really does, but it’s a failed attempt. 

“You missed, asshole,” Baekhyun says, smacking his lips as he licks up the cum that had made it somewhere in the vicinity of his mouth. 

Bäekhyun laughs, the sound unbidden. “Don’t worry Baekhyunnie, there’s more where that came from.”

Cleaning up is tedious but necessary. Neither of them like to wake up stuck together or to the sheets, so they strip and redress the bed haphazardly before making their way into the shower together. 

“Man, I'm going to miss this,” Baekhyun says, standing under the spray, washing out the suds in his hair. 

“Hm?” Bäekhyun asks as he waits for his turn. “What do you mean?”

“This,” Baekhyun gestures to the wide, rainfall shower head and the rest of the luxurious bathroom. “Just when I was starting to get used to this, we have to leave again.”

“What, you don’t like slumming it with me, Baekhyunnie?” He crowds Baekhyun against the opposite wall, slicking back his hair and rubbing up against Baekhyun so their hips align enticingly. “You’re getting spoiled.”

“I like anywhere with you,” Baekhyun teases, before leaning in for a kiss. It’s a deep one, full of tongue and the promise of more but Bäekhyun resists. He yelps when Bäekhyun pinches him in the ass. “Fine, fine, fine!” 

With another laugh and way too much groping they finally make it back to bed, burrowing naked into the soft silk sheets. Tonight, like many nights before, Baekhyun insists on being the big spoon. 

“Definitely gonna miss this,” he murmurs against the back of Bäekhyun’s still damp hair. “It’s not every day we get to sleep in a California king.”

“Yeah, we might have to lay low again for a while,” Bäekhyun answers just as quietly, lulled by Baekhyun’s warm embrace. 

“You really think they’re still after us?” Baekhyun asks, nuzzling into his neck, hands stroking at the little line of fuzz on Bäekhyun’s stomach. “It’s been months since the last time they caught up to us.”

Bäekhyun hums noncommittally. “Do you think any of your friends would really stop looking for you?”

“No, I guess not,” Baekhyun answers after a short pause to really think about it. “Who do you think it is this time? Should we be worried?”

“Not sure yet,” Bäekhyun says sleepily, trying not to remember the icy wind that had followed them home tonight. Ice had no business in April, not when this year’s spring was already too warm. “But I’m sure they’ll make themselves known sooner rather than later. That’s why we have to leave.”

“I know,” Baekhyun says, pressing his mouth along the line of Bäekhyun’s shoulder. It tickles a little, but Bäekhyun is able to stay still, turning his body a little so Baekhyun has access to more skin. “Let me choose the place this time,” he says while sucking a bruise on the underside of Bäekhyun’s chin. “We could take a plane, or a boat. Maybe get lost in the countryside.”

Bäekhyun pulls him into a long, sleepy kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

\--

In the morning, they pack up two duffel bags with enough clothes and cash for the few days it will take to get out of the country. They never bring more than that; most of the safehouses Bäekhyun’s prepared have ample supplies to last them more than a few months. They’ve stayed away from the places Baekhyun’s suggested for the most part because it’s simply not as safe. They’ve been all over Seoul and the neighboring cities, as far as they could without getting on a plane, but they’re running out of hiding places. It’s been long enough now that they’re willing to take their chances in the sky. 

They get to the airport separately and book the first flight to Shanghai. 

They’re careful about not being noticed, using a trick of the light to change their features and their hair color. They’re good at being inconspicuous - as long as no one looks at them too closely. 

It's a short flight, a little under two hours. The back of Bäekhyun’s neck prickles with apprehension throughout the whole flight but soon enough they’re disembarking and losing themselves in the crowded streets. They get burner phones, just in case, and take separate routes to the address Baekhyun had scrawled on a piece of paper before they’d separated in Seoul.

Bäekhyun takes a winding route through vaguely familiar back alleys that have certainly changed in the years since he’s been back in the city, but it still feels the same. It’s an eclectic mix of quick moving people but slow-moving time, new and old architecture converging on the same city block, one street corner dark and dingy, bright and shiny at the next. It’s not a bad place to lose a tail - a larger landscape and more densely populated areas theoretically means they should be harder to find. But Bäekhyun doesn’t like Shanghai, doesn’t like the people he knows here. He most especially doesn’t like the nagging feeling of being watched that hasn’t left him since they’d boarded the plane. 

He doesn’t expect that they’ll stay in Shanghai for long. 

The address Baekhyun wrote down leads to a long lane of houses down an alleyway just off the main street. From the outside it looks like a townhouse, but Bäekhyun’s hidden out in places like these before. As expected, the inside is barely 100 sq meters of space, with thin walls and a tiny kitchen. He does away with the lock on the door easily enough, stepping through the door and gets a knife pointed at his throat for the trouble. 

“Honey, I’m home,” he says slowly, not daring to move an inch, or drop his duffel bag to the floor. 

“You could have knocked,” Baekhyun hisses at him, pulling him all the way inside. 

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Baekhyunnie,” he replies, “You gonna put your knife away?”

Baekhyun scoffs, but thankfully pulls the knife away from his throat. “I heard you coming all the way down the hall.”

“Yes, I was trying to announce my presence, so I could avoid getting my throat slit, but clearly that was pointless.”

“Shut up, I could have killed you,” Baekhyun says, dragging him into the kitchen where a pot of instant ramen is on the stove. Cheese slices and an egg bubble away in the pot. 

“Better you than anybody else.” He pulls Baekhyun into his arms, who is careful to make sure his knife is safely on the counter before getting any closer. “Did you miss me Baekhyunnie?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Bäekhyun does, and they pay for it with soggy, overcooked noodles and burnt cheese. 

\--

Their time in Shanghai is short, but sweet. 

The city is a melting pot of ethnic and cultural diversity, so they don’t find it hard to fit in. The nightlife is colorful as well, with high end bars standing alongside food courts and street food. They find no end to their entertainment, sightseeing during the day and bar hopping at night. He loves to see the lights glittering in Baekhyun's eyes, loves to play with it to make Baekhyun smile. It’s tiny pleasure like that that makes all the running worth it. 

If only it could last. They’re heading into summer but there’s an icy chill in the air that Bäekhyun would be a fool to ignore.

“We have to go again, don’t we?” Baekhyun gasps, cursing under his breath when Bäekhyun swivels his hips and takes him in deeper. He doesn’t answer with words, just fucks himself down on Baekhyun’s hard cock over and over until they’re both crying out. “You’re only- this mean to me when- oh fuck-” he loses his train of thought when Bäekhyun squeezes around him, effectively shutting him up. 

Baekhyun isn’t wrong, but he sort of hates becoming this predictable. 

He punishes them both by going slower, jerks his hips in aborted little motions so that Baekhyun’s cock rubs against his prostate just enough to drive them both crazy, but not enough to push either of them over the edge. He does this until Baekhyun is whining, reaching for his cock to stroke him off, make him come so he can too. He tries to resist for as long as he can but Baekhyun has long, pretty fingers and knows exactly how to put them to good use. He cries out, losing the flimsy grip on the little control he has and finds himself being fucked into the mattress, Baekhyun’s pretty fingers invading his mouth. 

“Shh,” he says, “Too loud.”

The walls are thin but they’re leaving in the morning anyway, so fuck the neighbors he thinks, wrapping his legs around Baekhyun’s hips and moaning for him to go faster, harder. Baekhyun is so good at indulging him, fucking him exactly the way he wants. It’s the only time Bäekhyun has ever felt cared for, when they’re together like this, and oh, the lengths he’d go to, to keep feeling this way. 

Baekhyun comes before he does and licks away the evidence of himself until Bäekhyun is begging. “Please,” he says, the word sharp and pleading. “Please, Baekhyunnie, please please-”

Baekhyun makes use of his clever fingers again, slips one, two, three inside him, furling and unfurling them, fingertips flirting with the edges of his prostate. “Say it,” he mouths against the jut of Bäekhyun’s hip. “Say it one more time, _‘Baekhyunnie, please’._ ”

Bäekhyun obeys without any hesitation. “Baekhyunnie, p-please-”

Baekhyun makes good on his word, uses his fingers to drown Bäekhyun in the pleasure he’s been asking for. He bites at the meat on the inside of Bäekhyun’s thigh, holding him down while Bäekhyun spills all over himself in messy spurts. Baekhyun proves he can be mean too, when his fingers don’t stop, even when Bäekhyun is squirming away, wordlessly begging him to stop. 

“B-baekhyunnie-”

Baekhyun chuckles, teasing. He leaves one last kiss to Bäekhyun’s softening cock. “I’ll clean you up, and then start packing.”

\--

Their next destination is Japan. 

They land in Narita in the wee hours of the morning, and then take a bullet train to Osaka. The port city is slow to wake and this time, their new start feels different. The feeling of being watched goes away and doesn’t come back. The safe house Bäekhyun leads him to is one of his older ones, tucked away in a sleepy neighborhood not too far from the city’s center. It’s a foreigner friendly area, so they don’t stick out too much, not as noticeable as the towering group of Americans who rent the room just down the hall with their stilted Japanese. His own Japanese isn’t as good as his Mandarin, but Baekhyun’s is passable, if a little accented. 

They take day trips to all the neighboring cities: to Kobe to gorge themselves on authentic Kobe beef, to Nara to play and feed the deer. They spend countless days touring world heritage sites like Mount Koya to pray and Himeji to marvel at the castle. The nightlife doesn’t disappoint either. 

At night, Osaka is a mixture of clubs, bars, and live houses, all of them barely a stone’s throw away. Dinner every night consists of some kind of street food - takoyaki, okonomiyaki, and yakiniku piping hot and straight off the pan - followed by drinks and music. They take silly pictures with the Glico Running Man in the background when they tire of the clubs, walking up and down the canal to sober up. They steal kisses in the shadows on the way to their sleepy neighborhood, taking turns bending the light to hide themselves as they fumble with the keys to their temporary home. 

_“Ta ta takoyaki ta ta-”_ Baekhyun giggles under his breath, before falling into bed. He’s a lightweight when it comes to drinking, but Bäekhyun can never tell him to stop, not when he’s so pretty like this, red in the face and soft around the edges. _“Tako! Tako! Tako! Takoyaki!”_

He pulls Bäekhyun into bed with him, not caring if they smell like smoke and the outside world. He rolls them around, singing that damned song over and over again, surprisingly on pitch even while drunk. Bäekhyun indulges him, lets himself be rolled around and takes the opportunity to divest himself and Baekhyun of their clothing at every pass. He only puts a stop to their halfhearted wrestling when the only thing that’s left are pants. 

_“Ta ta takoyaki ta ta takoyaki!”_ Baekhyun sings. This time little balls of light appear in his palms and jump in tune. The little balls grow tentacles and soon there are a dozen tiny little glowing octopus following Baekhyun’s song. It’s no more than a silly parlor trick and yet, Bäekhyun wants to carve the image into the back of his eyelids, wants the memory of this forever, no matter what. 

_Anything,_ he thinks later that night as he deposits Baekhyun back into the bed. He’d fallen asleep while trying to brush his teeth. _I’d do anything._

His heart is pounding when he steps out into the roof of the building. It’s empty and almost pitch black, with barely a sliver of moon to illuminate his steps, but that’s okay. Bäekhyun’s never been afraid of the dark, so he stands there, waiting. 

_I’m here,_ he thinks, reaching into the deepest recesses of his mind, to the box of voices he’d locked away with the help of Baekhyun’s patience and persistence. In his mind, he opens the box, just a little. _I know you’re there. Come out, come out, wherever you are._

It doesn’t take long for something to answer him. 

An unnatural breeze ruffles his hair, circling around him, twining almost lazily around his arms and legs, and then around his chest. _Traitor,_ the wind hisses from ear to ear. The voices in his head cry out, echoing the word, rattling his skull and making him want to scream. Bäekhyun fights the urge to give in, bends the light like armor around him with one hand, a glittering rapier appearing in the other. He slices at the wind that tries to bind him, being careful to stay on the defensive. 

An invisible pressure tightens around him, stealing his breath, taking it from his lungs and giving it back, making him _choke_ on it. 

Bäekhyun endures it with his head spinning, gathering the shadows around him and then dispersing them, commanding them to ride along the fury of the wind until they reach the other side. 

He knows they’ve found their mark when suddenly he’s gasping, the air blissfully rushing in and out of his lungs. He heaves one, two, exquisite breaths before another cyclone assaults him from behind, broad shoulders and muscled arms appearing out of thin air to put him in a choke hold. His breathing is cut off again, this time by the tight bend of an elbow, but Bäekhyun is faster, slips out of the hold, powered by the speed of light. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Bäekhyun yells into the tempest battering against him. “I don’t want to fight you, Sehün.” 

Abruptly, the wind stops howling, but again Bäekhyun finds himself breathless, feeling like his chest is going to explode, the pressure in his lungs approching critical mass. He’s seconds from blacking out, from the volcano in chest erupting. Appearing in front of him, _Baekhyun’s Sehun_ stands with his unmarred face, a fist clenched in one hand and a familiar, glowing hourglass in the other.

 _Fuck,_ he thinks dimly, he hadn’t expected that. But he doesn’t want to die like this - he can’t, doesn’t believe he will, if he can just hold on long enough to get through to the man in front of him. 

“Sehunnie,” he gasps, the name familiar on his tongue, even without the inflection. “Stop- you’re hurting me. You’re hurting hyung-”

“Shut. Up.” Sehun says furiously, his fist tightening. Bäekhyun’s neck feels like it might snap at any second. “Don’t fucking call me that. You aren’t him. You aren’t _my hyung._ ”

Bäekhyun struggles against the lack of air and directs a pulse of light in Sehun’s direction, before he blacks out completely. It’s something Baekhyun had taught him, to gather the light into something warm and soft, to soothe rather than to irritate or cause pain. He almost thinks it won’t work because Sehun’s fury - his grief - feels too great, and he resists the light, chasing it away. But the light is persistent, seeking the darkness in Sehun’s core and scattering it momentarily. Sehun looks shocked for a second, and it’s enough distraction that his fist loosens just enough to let Bäekhyun finally breathe.

“What- what did you do to me?” Sehun asks, visibly shaken. His eyes are wide, the fight in him interrupted by confusion. He looks younger all of a sudden, more familiar, more like the pictures of a boy Baekhyun has kept on his phone, not so secretly buried under hundreds of his own silly pictures.

“Sehunnie,” Bäekhyun calls out again, and this time he isn’t told to shut up. He sends another pulse of warm light at Sehun, a stronger one this time. Sehun staggers back when it touches him, not even bothering to dodge. “Sehunnie, where did you get that hourglass? Did someone give it to you?”

“How did you- you aren’t my hyung,” Sehun says weakly, and he looks like he might collapse. 

_No,_ Bäekhyun thinks, _but I could be._ Bäekhyun catches him before he crumples to the ground, the fight in him going out completely. He’s heavy, and Bäekhyun tries to lower them both onto the ground as gently as he can. He sits there for a moment, mind reeling, eyes riveted to the red glow of the hourglass still held tightly in Sehun’s hand. 

“Fuck,” he curses outloud when his head starts to pound in a specifically rhythmic way, the sensation is distant and familiar, one that Bäekhyun hasn’t heard in months and months. _Baekhyun,_ he thinks wildly, _I need to get back to Baekhyun._

\--

He doesn’t know how, but somehow, he manages to drag himself and Sehun back downstairs and into through their front door. With a strength he didn’t think he was capable of, he hoists Sehun onto the couch before staggering back into the bedroom where Baekhyun is already moving to get out of bed, eyes rubbed red and swollen from sleep. 

“Bäek- Bäek, what’s wrong?” He asks worriedly. “Are you okay? Fuck- are you- you’re hurt!”

“Baekhyunnie,” Bäekhyun holds on to his head, stifling back a sob. “Make it stop- make it stop-”

Baekhyun hauls him back to the bed, rocks him back and forth and humming wordlessly under his breath. Bäekhyun focuses on the tune, on the continuous motion of their bodies until the voices recede and the awful, awful feeling of wanting to bash his head into a wall subsides. He doesn’t know how long it takes, but by the time he lifts his head from Baekhyun’s chest, dawn is breaking over the horizon. The tendrils of light sting his eyes and his head threatens to pound again. Baekhyun covers his eyes and starts humming again, and this time Bäekhyun recognizes the tune. 

“Are you...humming the takoyaki song?” he asks incredulously. His voice is rough and his throat feels raw, like maybe there’ll be a ring of bruises around his neck but not the fun kind. 

“Which Sehun is out there on the couch? Mine or yours?” Baekhyun counters.

“Yours,” Bäekhyun answers, even as his mind supplies _ours, maybe._

Baekhyun blows out a breath. “I’m too hung over for this shit.”

“Yeah, I can smell.”

Baekhyun doesn’t take the bait. “We have to go,” he says grimly. 

Bäekhyun nods in agreement. “We do.”

“What do we do with him?” he asks, and Bäekhyun can read the hesitation in his voice as clear as day. 

He pulls Baekhyun’s hand away slowly, getting used to the brightness of the room in increments. When he can see Baekhyun’s face again, he catches his gaze and very deliberately keeps it. He thinks of all the things he’s willing to do to keep Baekhyun by his side, to protect his smile, his glittering eyes, and this unexpected glimpse of happiness they’ve found with each other. He thinks of that and more when he says, “We can take him with us.”

“What- like a hostage?” Baekhyun asks, dubious.

“He’s not a hostage if he _chooses_ to go with us.”

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Baekhyun sighs.

“No going back, remember, Baekhyunnie?” he says seriously. “I won’t let you go back and I’m not letting them take you from me either.”

Frowning at him, Baekhyun says, “I know.”

“There’s something else,” Bäekhyun says. “I think there’s...something wrong with him. He’s got this- this thing with him. It’s not good Baekhyunnie. Something must have happened. I don’t think he’s who you think he is anymore. I don’t think he’s the same.”

From the open bedroom door, they both turn their heads, watching as Sehun stirs, groaning as he wakes up. 

“What are you talking about?” Baekhyun asks. “What do you mean he’s not the same?”

“I don’t have time to explain right now, but you have to decide Baekhyunnie. He either comes with us or,” Bäekhyun hesitates, wonders when he’d gone soft. “We have to subdue him. Permanently.”

Baekhyun jerks himself away, visibly taken aback. “Bäek- that's not a choice.”

“Listen, Baekhyunnie, listen to me,” he urges, holds Baekhyun’s face in his hands, makes sure he can’t turn away. “If I’m right. If your Sehun is different. He might be- more like _me._ Do you understand? In here.” Bäekhyun raps a knuckle against his own head, at the voices that lie dormant in there, quiet for now, but never, ever gone. “He’s going to be dangerous. Consumed by rage. Compelled to kill you- us. Himself. Do you understand?”

Dumbstruck, Baekhyun looks momentarily speechless. “H-how?” he asks faintly. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Bäekhyun repeats. “But I wouldn’t wish this kind of misery on anyone. Not knowing the things in my head, these voices, this compulsion.” He closes his eyes, allows himself a moment to wallow in the blackhole of his emotions. “Baekhyunnie, if it weren’t for you, I-”

“Shut up,” Baekhyun interrupts. He looks angry now. “Stop talking like that.”

Bäekhyun stops, but only because it's a pointless argument and not one they can afford right now. From the couch, Sehun stirs again. They’re running out of time. “Baekhyunnie…”

Baekhyun exhales sharply. “I told you Bäek- you’re not giving me a choice. I- I can’t hurt him.”

Bäekhyun nods in understanding. “I knew you’d say that.” He gets on his feet. “Okay. This is how we’ll do it. Exactly like how you did it for me. Do you remember?” He cups Baekhyun’s hands in his until a glowing ball of light appears. It pulses, full of warm, soothing energy. “Flood him with it to drown out the voices and the compulsion. After, we’ll deal with whatever happens.”

“Together?” Baekhyun asks, lacing their hands together. The ball of light pulses brightly when Bäekhyun squeezes back. 

“No going back,” Bäekhyun answers in lieu of yes or no.

Baekhyun nods, heading for the door. “No going back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me for that ambiguous/open ending.


End file.
